


Strange Bedfellows

by darling_pet



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Comfort, Drinking, Drunkenness, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Hot Mess, Humor, Literal Sleeping Together, One Shot, Reader-Insert, Silly, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23824648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_pet/pseuds/darling_pet
Summary: After a night of drowning your misfortune in many cheap drinks, you stumble back into S.T.A.R. Labs to crash for the night. Little do you know, you’ve stumbled into the wrong spare room…
Relationships: Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells & Reader, Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells & You, Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells/Reader, Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells/You
Kudos: 38





	Strange Bedfellows

So what if you got fired?

So what if you were evicted from your apartment?

So what if you have no romantic prospects?

The only relationship you kindle tonight is one with a Mr. Daniels.  _ Jack  _ Daniels. Oh, and a Madam Gin and her friend Miss Brandy. The gang’s all here, and they support you in your rough night at one of Central City’s cheapest bars.

You’re not proud of your actions, but a night of boozing is the only way you can see yourself getting through these first hurdles of shitty luck. When you confided in Barry, he told you that you’re free to use one of the S.T.A.R. Labs spare rooms to stay in until you’re back on your feet again. You’re so grateful to have a friend like good ol’ Barry Allen.

_ Cheers! To Barry! _ you think to yourself, ordering another drink from the growingly skeptical bartender. You had asked Barry not to tell anyone on Team Flash about your situation just yet, as you are still embarrassed about everything right now. You know he’ll keep his promise.

When the bartender cuts you off, you scoff indignantly. How dare he? Doesn’t he know what you’re going through? Doesn’t he  _ know _ the company you work for laid you off because of downsizing? Doesn’t he  _ know _ you haven’t had sex in a horrifyingly long time? Only his glorious cocktails can solve your problems!

You pout, and in all your hazy wisdom, decide not to throw a fit in this crap bar. Might as well head… where are you supposed to go again?

_ Oh yeah, the Labs. _

It takes you longer than usual to even just get to the elevator inside the building, and ultimately stumble and fall on your ass as the doors open. With an unsteady hand, you punch the button for Level 500. The speed at which the elevator carries you renders you a bit dizzy, and you only notice the true effects of what you’ve done tonight when you wobble out of it upon reaching the correct floor.

Walking with your hands out in front of you - for stability, naturally - you give yourself a pep talk of sorts.

“You’re doin’ good, almost there, wooooo…”

It’s so strange to see the Labs so dimly lit, mostly because you’re rarely here in the middle of the night.

“Spooky…” you whisper to yourself. “Spooky dooooo, where are youuuuu.”

Eventually, after a series of humming the  _ Pink Panther  _ theme, and skulking around the corridors pretending your fingers are a pistol, you come to the door of one of the spare rooms where you will be sleeping indefinitely. There’s a bit of moonlight streaking in from the room's window, but other than this, it’s too dark for you to see much of anything. You think you can make out the bed, so you go to sit down on the edge of it after shimmying out of your skinny jeans. You shrug off your jacket, and decide then and there that’s too much work already, and leave on your tank top. Genuinely, you just want to crash now.

The moment you curl up under the covers and your cheek hits the strangely familiar-scented pillow, you drift off into the long-awaited dreamland...

  
  


***

Sunlight replaces the moonlight in the boringly decorated spare room. You only recognize this because the light is too strong to allow you to actually open your eyes.

Needless to say, a headache is starting to kick in.

You don’t need to open your eyes anyway. The position you’re in is so wonderfully comfortable that you don’t want to move. Your head rests on a sturdy pillow while cuddling against another sturdy pillow…

_ Since when are pillows ‘sturdy’...? _

_ And since when do pillows hold you back? _

This is when you dare to open your eyes, and what you witness makes you second guess as to whether you’re still dreaming.

You are in bed with Harry Wells.

You’re resting against his hard body, feeling how he breathes steadily underneath you. His hand lays on your hip as if it’s done it a million times before.

Making the mistake of lifting your head from Harry’s chest, you set off a chain reaction, ultimately waking up the man himself. It’s a slow realization on his part: Harry blinks languidly, inhaling that first conscious breath of the morning, then his eyes go round in complete shock.

“Wh-what?” he says exasperated, sitting up. “What the  _ hell _ are you doing in  _ my bed _ ?”

“I don’t know!” you shout back, “I  _ don’t know _ !”

Harry notices his hand on your hip and removes it as if you’ve burned him.

“When did you-?”

“ _ I don’t know _ !!” God, you are so embarrassed. You’re in your  _ underwear _ in his  _ bed _ ! Your face must look like a ripened tomato right now, so you try to cover it with your hands. “Did we-? We didn’t…?” you try to ask and peer at Harry through your fingers. Surprisingly, the man laughs to himself.

“No, I think I’d remember something like that,” he says quietly.

“Wait, what?”

“Why do you smell like a distillery?”

“Why do you…” you attempt a comeback, but everything floods back into your memory. You start to tear up a bit at all your recent misfortune and wind up falling forward with your face in Harry’s lap over the blankets.

“Oh,” he says, and hesitates in letting his hands fall to your arm and your back respectively. “Hey, I didn’t mean… um…”

“Mmmjsstttammphhhh,” you utter, voice muffled by the covers. His hand feels like heavenly comfort on your spine as he rubs up and down.

“I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” Harry replies, almost sounding slightly amused. You lift your head from his lap and clutch his black tank top in desperation.

“I’m just a mess,” you clarify. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of  _ this _ and now you probably hate me even more for all this weirdness.”

“‘Hate you’? What do you mean ‘hate you’?”

“You  _ know _ ,” you try to articulate. “You’re always so-” You make a frowny face. “-With me.”

“Is that supposed to be me?”

You nod.

“You should know by now that doesn’t mean I hate you, (Y/L/N).”

“It doesn’t?”

Harry shakes his head. His eyes move from your own, down to where your hand still clutches his undershirt. You are now hyper-aware, so you remove your hand and sit up straight. However, that upsets your mental state. The pounding returns.

“Ow.”

“Why don’t you just lie back down?” Harry suggests. “Sleep some more.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Maybe it’s just the lingering effects of the alcohol in your system, but you ask him a question that pops into your mind. “Listen, I’m sure you probably have some special project to get an early start on, but would you mind staying here with me a bit longer? When I’m alone with my thoughts, I dwell too much, but you seem to make all my thoughts disappear.”

“Should I be flattered by such a thing?” he asks, wearing a highly rare smile. Actually, you’ve never seen him smile so much in one conversation.

“In this case, yes.”

“Alright, then.”

You get comfy under the covers once more, letting your head dip while resting on the pillow. Harry does the same, facing you. It’s a bit awkward at first, but with time, that feeling fades, and before either of you know it, Harry’s chin rests on top of your head while you’re snugly pressed against him and begin to drift off. You covet his warmth and relish in his hand on your back again. As expected, all thoughts, including those moments from last night, disappear. Even your bare legs are no longer shy when they meet his beneath the blankets. All there is now is comfort, silence, a little bit of something else unsaid.


End file.
